


a sentimental feeling

by underwaternow



Series: have yourself a merry little christmas [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 07:41:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17117246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underwaternow/pseuds/underwaternow
Summary: It’s almost Christmas, and this year Tyson has plans. He and Gabe have been dating for almost two years, and Tyson has figured out that there’s very little Gabe likes more than an elaborate, planned romantic gesture, but it’s Tyson’s turn now.





	a sentimental feeling

**Author's Note:**

> merry christmas eve eve! i come bearing gifts: this absurdly fluffy (but also a lot more explicit than i originally intended? oops) thing. after the last fic i posted i needed to write something that was just over the top sweet and loving and warm, and, well, i love holiday fic, so here we are. officially this is a sequel to last year's gabe/tyson christmas fic, but it very much stands on its own, so you can definitely read this even if you haven't read the first one (but you should read the first one too!). thank you to brenna for the ideas and britta for the quick beta! thank you all so much for reading and commenting and leaving kudos — i hope you have wonderful holidays and a very merry new year.

It’s almost Christmas, and this year Tyson has plans. He and Gabe have been dating for almost two years, and Tyson has figured out that there’s very little Gabe likes more than surprising him with an elaborate, planned romantic gesture — the Christmas dates Gabe planned for them before they were even actually together, his attempt at wooing Tyson straight out of a Hallmark movie. The time he got both Nate and EJ involved in turning Tyson’s bedroom into some kind of cliché honeymoon suite from a movie, with rose petals and candles all over the place and a bubble bath and champagne, all to ask if Tyson wanted to spend part of their first summer together with him in Sweden. The scavenger hunt that led Tyson to all his favorite restaurants in Denver, finishing up at the Dairy Queen by his house where Gabe was waiting with a cookie dough Blizzard, extra cookie dough, to ask if he wanted to officially move in together. Tyson could go on; these are just the most notable ones — but it’s his turn now.

None of the guys really ask about their Christmas plans until a big group of them go out after the last game before their break starts. Tyson is sandwiched between Nate and Willy in a booth at some bar Kerf and Josty and Comphy knew about, a place that’s a little more of a dive than their usual spots but Tyson likes. It has $4 beers, so the rest of the guys are into it, and he got some hot chocolate drink with Bailey’s in it, or something. Peppermint schnapps, maybe. All Tyson knows is that there’s a literal mound of whipped cream on it and it’s getting him drunk, so he’s happy. There are Christmas lights strung up in the windows and neon beer signs behind the bar and a jukebox that Gabe and EJ have been hogging all night. They’ve listened to a lot of Backstreet Boys. 

“Hey,” Willy starts, nudging Tyson, and Tyson hums companionably. “What’re you doing for the break? Gabe said he didn’t know.”

Tyson licks whipped cream off his upper lip. “Going to Vail. Don’t tell him, though, it’s a surprise.”

“Vail is a surprise?” Willy is raising one eyebrow like he thinks that’s kind of a shitty surprise, but there’s a lot he doesn’t know. Tyson has been planning this for months. 

“No. Well, yes, but there’s more to it. Nate — ” and now Tyson turns to look at Nate, slightly too drunk to explain this without spoiling it. “Nate, tell him.”

Nate just looks at him. “You’re going to Vail.”

Tyson sighs. He doesn’t want to tell Willy and risk ruining the surprise, but there’s more to it than just _Vail_.

“Well, nice, man,” Willy says. “Which resort?”

“None of ‘em,” Tyson tells him happily, Nate’s unhelpfulness forgotten. “I got an Airbnb.”

“It’s cute,” Nate puts in. “It’s a little cabin.”

“Oh,” Willy says. He thinks this over. “Gabe’ll like that.”

Tyson grins, pleased. He thinks so. He knows what Gabe likes; Gabe’s been his boyfriend for almost two years, after all. 

Gabe appears out of nowhere, then, probably magically summoned by being the topic of conversation, and drops into the seat across from Tyson, next to Barbs. “I’m officially out of quarters. Good news, though, I used the last of them to request every ABBA song in there.” As he says it, there’s a pause as one of EJ’s picks ends — an old One Direction song, Tyson is pretty sure, one of the ones Gabe sings in the shower — and then the familiar opening notes of Dancing Queen fill the bar. One booth over, Nemeth and Ghetto groan loudly in unison; one of them tosses a crumpled-up napkin over the back of the seat at Gabe. 

“Hi,” Tyson says. Gabe smiles at him, his eyes shining. “I love this song. Also, I love you.”

“Get a room,” Mikko says from Gabe’s other side, squeezing back in with another round of beers. “Who did I get these for? Hands up if you asked for one.”

Hands go up around Tyson as Gabe’s smile grows wider and he hooks his foot around Tyson’s ankle under the table. _I love you too_ , he mouths back. 

Tyson beams at nothing in particular and takes another big sip of his drink. He seriously has such a great plan. Maybe the best plan ever, even. Gabe is gonna love it. 

 

—

 

Things don’t get off to the greatest start the next morning. Tyson sleeps through his alarm and wakes up with a hangover from hell, and Gabe refuses to get out of bed. When he finally makes it downstairs after Tyson literally has to sit on him to get him to move, wearing some navy Fairisle sweater that accentuates his shoulders and makes his eyes even bluer in a way that is criminally unfair, Tyson’s just managed to feed Zoey. He’s wearing sunglasses indoors and took four ibuprofen and he feels like he’s two seconds from death. 

“You have got to stop drinking those sugary drinks, Tyson,” Gabe tells him, snapping Zoey’s leash on her to take her out to the car. She gets to come with them; Tyson found a dog-friendly Airbnb. That was a big part of the plan. “If you would just drink a beer for once in your life…”

Tyson shudders delicately. “I’ll take the hangovers.”

“You’re the weirdest person I know,” Gabe says cheerfully. He opens the back door of the car, makes a kissing noise and murmurs something to Zoey in Swedish so she jumps in. 

“We’re getting breakfast before we start driving,” Tyson tells him, throwing the bags in the back. “I can’t function if I don’t have eggs and sausage and maybe a waffle. I’m not sure yet.”

“You know we’re only off for three days, right?” Gabe cracks, grinning. “Maybe pace yourself.”

“Bite me, Landeskog,” Tyson retorts, and then leans in and gives Gabe a quick kiss on the corner of his stupid, smirking mouth. When Tyson leans back, Gabe’s grin has softened into something sweeter. He tastes like toothpaste. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” Gabe says, but there’s no edge to it; he’s still smiling, small and soft and just for Tyson. 

“Get in the car, c’mon,” Tyson says, shaking his head. “We’re so behind schedule already.”

“Since when do you do anything by a schedule?” Gabe wants to know when they’re in the car and Tyson is carefully backing down the driveway, squinting against the light. There’s fresh snow on the ground, everything extra bright, and he’s seriously considering putting a second pair of sunglasses over the pair he’s already wearing. God, he needs coffee. “It’s barely 11. Didn’t you tell me once that anyone who willingly leaves their home before noon on a day off is probably a serial killer?”

“Shut up,” Tyson says automatically, waving at their across the street neighbor as he shifts from reverse to drive. Her kids are in the front yard just throwing handfuls of snow at each other; she’s wearing three scarves and looks miserable as she waves back. “This is different.”

Gabe raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. 

There’s a 30 minute wait at their usual brunch spot, but Tyson must look pathetic because ten minutes in, his favorite waitress brings him a cup of coffee and croissant, which he accepts gratefully. 

“You’re the best,” he tells her, eating half the croissant in one bite, holding it away from Gabe as Gabe leans in, tries to grab a piece of it. “Get off, this is mine, you don’t get anything.”

“Learn to share,” Gabe says, sinking back into his spot on the bench, arms crossed over his chest like a toddler. “Honestly, Tyson.”

“I need this or I’ll die,” Tyson says seriously, finishing the croissant and taking a gulp of coffee. It burns his insides a little but it’s so worth it. He already feels slightly more alive. “This is what you get for drinking beer and not being hungover, no special baked goods.”

“I can’t stand you,” Gabe tells him. Tyson considers calling him out as a liar, but instead he passes the coffee over and leans in for a kiss. 

 

—

 

“Okay, really,” Gabe says once they’re back on the road. “Where are we going? Are you taking me somewhere to murder me and dispose of my body? I’ve never seen you that insistent on driving, you hate driving.”

“I do not hate driving!” Tyson protests. “There’s just usually someone else who will do it, so I don’t, but today I need to.” Gabe raises his hand, like an asshole, and Tyson glares at him and neatly merges onto I-70. “Listen, dickhead, will you just let me surprise you for once?”

Gabe starts laughing. “Did you seriously just call me a _dickhead_? Romance isn’t dead, people! It’s well and truly alive!”

“Shut up, I love you,” Tyson snaps, sounding he doesn’t mean it at all. “I’m serious. I want to surprise you, okay? You do it for me all the time, let me for once.”

“Okay,” Gabe relents. “That’s really sweet and you’re right.” He pauses, and then starts laughing again. “Even if you did just call me a dickhead.”

“Enough,” Tyson says, but his lips are twitching as he tries not to smile. “We have to stop fighting in front of Zoey, c’mon.”

Gabe immediately twists around in his seat and leans back to pet Zoey, who’s sleeping in the backseat, perfectly unbothered, ignoring them completely. “She’s on my side, aren’t you, Zo? Aren’t you? Oh, you’re such a good girl, yes you are.”

Tyson smiles to himself. It’s quiet for a few minutes save Gabe’s sweet murmuring to Zoey, and when he turns back around and looks down at his phone, Tyson says, “We’re going to Vail.”

Gabe looks up at him. “Really? Which resort? I didn’t know any of those resorts allowed dogs, Tys, are we — ”

“We’re not staying at any of the resorts,” Tyson says. He concentrates very hard on the road, both because he doesn’t want to risk giving anything away and because he really doesn’t drive very often, and adds, “I got us an Airbnb. Like a cabin, it’s more secluded and it’s pet-friendly, um, one of the reviews said they brought their dog and the owner made sure to leave some biscuits and things, so she’ll be good. There’s a hot tub, and a deck, and it’s only like ten minutes or something into town.”

“Tys, that sounds great,” Gabe says, sounding impressed. “Like — actually perfect, I wouldn’t have minded a resort but this’ll be…”

“Yeah,” Tyson agrees. “There was even a recent picture, it looks like they decorated for Christmas, so. I thought it sounded good. Just us.”

Gabe reaches over and squeezes Tyson’s knee, smiling when Tyson glances at him, quick. His eyes are soft and happy, and Tyson’s heart feels like it’s expanding, like he’s the Grinch but his heart was the right size in the first place and now it’s growing so much it’s too big for his chest and is going to burst out. He clears his throat and refocuses on driving. Yep. This is definitely a great plan. 

 

—

 

They stop for groceries in town before heading to the Airbnb, which in retrospect wasn’t a great idea; they’re both stiff and tired and Tyson doesn’t know what it is but they always argue at the grocery store. Gabe catches him trying to sneak a bottle of champagne in the cart, because he meant to pick one up and stash it in his bag but forgot, and starts teasing him, “since when do you drink champagne, Tys? You feeling okay?” which normally would have Tyson laughing and firing off a comeback about the size of Gabe’s head, but today it annoys him. He’s trying to plan something special, give Gabe the kind of romantic surprise that he’s given Tyson countless times since they started dating, and all he gets for it is made fun of in the run-down Safeway in Vail. 

Tyson ends up snapping, “Finish the fucking shopping yourself, Gabe,” shoving his list into Gabe’s chest, and stomping out to the car before he realizes Gabe has the keys. He has to stand there next to the car while Zoey stares at him from the backseat and his brain keeps supplying him with witty, cutting comeback after comeback now that his window to use them is closed. Gabe takes for fucking ever, because it’s freezing outside so of course he does. He’s probably in there reading about whoever’s on the cover of People magazine this week, Tyson thinks. Every time they’re waiting in the checkout line Gabe picks up one of those magazines to find out what the Kardashians or Ellen and Portia are up to; he usually reads aloud to Tyson and the clerks frown at him for reading the magazines without paying before they realize he’s handsome and/or Gabe Landeskog. 

When Gabe finally gets out to the car, the bottle of champagne is right at the top of one of the grocery bags like a peace offering, but Tyson just takes the keys from him and gets in the car without a word. They have to backtrack through town to get to the Airbnb, it takes a lot longer than Tyson anticipated because he doesn’t quite know where he’s going and it’s starting to get dark, and by the time they pull into the driveway and Tyson turns off the car, the tension is thick. He cuts a sideways glance at Gabe, who’s just sitting there staring into space, and sighs. This is stupid, and it’s not how he wanted to start their break. This is supposed to be romantic. Tyson wants to create memories here, dammit.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says, dropping his head onto the steering wheel. “I don’t know what that was about.”

“I’m sorry too,” Gabe says immediately, like he was just waiting for Tyson to apologize first, and Tyson rolls his eyes even as he’s trying not to smirk. 

“You always do that, I swear, would it kill you to apologize first for once in your life?”

“No!” Gabe protests, but Tyson can see him trying not to smile too. “You were the one who freaked out on me, you should apologize first!”

“Well. I’m sorry, okay?” Tyson says, because that’s probably a fair point. 

“It’s okay,” Gabe says gently. “You want to talk about anything, or did you just have a moment in that creepy grocery store?”

“Oh my god, it was so creepy,” Tyson says, their fight momentarily forgotten. “Was it built in the 1800s?”

Gabe’s lips are twitching. “I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone, honestly.”

“Me too.” Tyson hesitates. “Had a moment. I think I’m hungry, actually.”

“You had so much food at brunch, Tyson, oh my god,” Gabe says as he gets out of the car, opens the side door to let Zoey out. Tyson gets out too, goes around to get their bags and they meet at the back corner of the car, Zoey running between their legs as Gabe wraps his arm around Tyson’s shoulders.

“Love you,” Tyson mumbles into Gabe’s shoulder. He feels Gabe kiss his hair in response.

“Love you too. Hey. Let’s go check this place out. Find the hot tub, maybe christen it.” Gabe wiggles his eyebrows and smiles as Tyson looks up at him, and Tyson feels the last bit of tension drain away. 

“Yeah, all right. The house rules said not to leave it on if we aren’t using it but they didn’t say anything about not having sex in it.”

Gabe’s laughter echoes in the air around them. 

So that’s how their first night goes: they open the bottle of wine that their hosts left for them with a note welcoming them to Vail and jerk each other off in the hot tub, Tyson in Gabe’s lap, pressing sloppy open-mouthed kisses against Gabe’s lips as Gabe gasps and shudders underneath him. 

“What a view,” Gabe says after. The wine is gone and Tyson’s still in his lap and the moon is out, casting a milky glow over the mountains. The stars are out, too, thousands of them, and Tyson must still be feeling the wine or the sex or both, because he has to swallow a few times around the lump in his throat before he can speak. 

“Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

Gabe reaches up and touches one of the curls that’s falling forward into Tyson’s face. “I meant you.”

“Oh — _gross_ , who says shit like that,” Tyson says, feeling his face get hot, but he leans down and kisses Gabe again slow and deep and a little dirty. Gabe wraps one arm around him and hauls them both out of the hot tub, which is way hotter than it has any business being, and it’s a good thing that they’re just out on the back deck, the doors leading inside to the bedroom, because all they can do is stumble inside and fall onto the bed together. Gabe produces lube from somewhere and works Tyson open carefully, fingers him slowly until they’re both hard again and Tyson is burning up from the inside and all it takes is Gabe getting a hand back around both of them for him to come, hard, across Gabe’s chest.

“Fuck,” he manages, still breathing hard as Gabe jerks himself off and finishes on Tyson’s stomach and immediately makes an even worse mess of it by collapsing on top of him. Tyson doesn’t really care, though; that was _awesome_. He lifts one hand up and pats Gabe’s shoulder weakly. “Good call on getting the lube out before we got in the hot tub.”

Gabe lifts his head up, frowning slightly. “I thought you got that out.”

“I didn’t get it out!” Tyson says. “Fuck, did we just use a stranger’s lube?”

“Oh my god,” Gabe says. He looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “There was lube in this room before we got here. Were we supposed to use it? Was it complimentary?”

Tyson starts laughing. “Jesus. Whatever, I need a shower, move.” He shoves at Gabe’s shoulder until Gabe rolls away enough to let him up; when he pads into the bathroom and turns on the shower Gabe follows, and they end up under the spray together, still laughing and kissing and touching. Neither of them come again, but it’s close, and when they finally dry off and get back in bed Tyson is exhausted.

“G’night,” he mumbles, too tired to even lift his head up and find Gabe’s mouth for a proper goodnight kiss. He kisses Gabe’s shoulder instead; it’s closer.

“Goodnight,” Gabe says, squeezing Tyson a little. He wiggles one of his big cold feet between Tyson’s, and Tyson squawks indignantly, like they don’t go through this every night. “Thanks. This break is off to a great start.”

“Yeah, it is,” Tyson agrees sleepily. “Except for me throwing a fit in the grocery store.”

Gabe hums. “No, even that. I don’t mind arguing with you, sometimes.” He sounds sheepish. “It makes this feel real.”

And that — well, that’s ridiculous, is what it is, and warrants Tyson lifting his head up to look Gabe in the eye. “You like fighting because it makes this feel real? There have to be so many more things we do that make our relationship feel real. We live together. You’ve seen me barf, like, so many times. Just last week, Gabe, we sat together and you paid bills and I called the cable company to ask for a credit because it was out for those few days and I did it and everything, I didn’t even have to tag you in, what’s more real than that?”

“Not _fighting_ ,” Gabe says, looking embarrassed now, which he should, because this is weird. “Not if we’re actually mad at each other, or if it’s about something big, but — I don’t know.” He does his best to shrug. “The little arguments that aren’t about anything and we make up right away, yeah. It feels like I really get to see all of you, not just the good parts.”

“Okay, well, if you like my bad parts you can see them more often,” Tyson says, and then immediately wants to kick himself when Gabe starts cackling. “Fuck you, that’s not what I meant, you started it.”

“C’mere,” Gabe says, reaching out and cupping Tyson’s face in his big hands, ignoring him as Tyson tries to slap him away. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Tyson mutters, returning the kiss only a little reluctantly. He curls back in against Gabe’s chest as Gabe pulls the blankets up around them; the last thing he’s aware of before falling asleep is Gabe murmuring something sweet in Swedish to Zoey as she jumps up on the bed between their feet. 

 

—

 

Tyson wakes up the next morning with the sun in his eyes and Gabe spooned up behind him, one big arm wrapped loosely around his chest. He lies there for awhile, drifting in and out of sleep, savoring the warmth and the knowledge that there’s nowhere they have to be. The day is theirs. When Gabe wakes up, he presses sleepy kisses to the back of Tyson’s neck and over the knobs of his spine until Tyson rolls over and leans up to kiss him. 

“I didn’t even get a chance to grind against your back,” Gabe mumbles against Tyson’s mouth, and Tyson huffs out a laugh. “Wanted to fuck your thighs,” he adds, his voice still sleep-rough, and Tyson almost bites down on Gabe’s lip mid-kiss, because yes, thank you. 

“You could still do that,” he says, letting his hand drift over Gabe’s hip underneath the blankets. “Where’s the stolen lube?”

“It’s not stolen,” Gabe says, like he isn’t the one who stole it, and twists around and comes up with it. “Here.”

Tyson kisses him again as he takes it, flicks the cap open and squeezes enough out into his palm that it drips on the sheets, and wraps his hand loosely around Gabe’s dick. Gabe groans into Tyson’s neck, which he’s busy kissing in a way that’s pretty distracting, but Tyson does his best to put it out of his mind and just focus on the glide of his hand and the noises Gabe’s making, little moans like he’s never felt so good in his life. Tyson manages to free his other arm, works it up into Gabe’s fairly magnificent bed head and tangles his fingers in Gabe’s hair, just enough to pull a little.

“Fuck, that’s — move your — ” Gabe starts, lifting his head up. His mouth is red and his eyes are so blue it almost hurts to look at them and Tyson still sometimes can’t believe he gets to fuck this person regularly, gets to make Gabe look like _that_ : undone by a very basic handjob. “Let me fuck your thighs now, c’mon.”

“Romantic,” Tyson comments, but he slides his lube-sticky hand out of the way, over Gabe’s hip again. “Go for it, buddy.”

“I have asked you,” Gabe starts, letting his dick slide between Tyson’s thighs, “so many times to not call me _buddy_ in bed, and you — ” His mouth falls open when Tyson tenses the muscles in his thighs, and Tyson allows himself one small, smug smile. “Fuck, that’s — Tys.” 

Gabe saying his name in bed is still almost too much for Tyson to deal with, even two years in when he’s heard it probably hundreds of times, and so he just groans and presses closer and kisses Gabe again, open-mouthed and a little sloppy. One of Gabe’s big hands comes up to firmly cup the back of Tyson’s head as he kisses him back, moves against him, and Tyson digs his fingers into Gabe’s hip a little.

“Come on,” Tyson mutters after a few minutes, Gabe panting against his mouth. Tyson’s so hard it’s almost impossible to think about anything else. He slides his hand up, rolls one of Gabe’s nipples between his fingers, and Gabe shudders and groans low and comes all over both of them. “God, finally, shit, can you please — ”

“Demanding,” Gabe says hazily, but then he kisses Tyson one more time and disappears beneath the blankets and all it takes is about five seconds of Gabe’s mouth on him before Tyson is clutching at the blankets and babbling out Gabe’s name as he comes. Gabe kisses his stomach as he comes down, crawls back up the length of Tyson’s body to drop another kiss on his mouth, and curls around him, arm wrapped tight over Tyson’s chest to hold him close. “Hey.”

“Hm,” Tyson hums. His eyes are closed. He could probably sleep again. Is that a nap? He’s never quite been able to pin down the rules for naps versus just going back to sleep.

He can feel Gabe smile against his shoulder. “Happy anniversary.”

Tyson smiles too, a secret thing into the pillow, because this is going to be an amazing day. “Hey, yeah, happy anniversary. I love you, buddy.”

“I can’t stand you,” Gabe says, clearly trying not to laugh, and yanks the blankets away with enough force that Tyson kind of spins off the bed. “Oh, shit, are you okay?”

“Lower body injury,” Tyson groans, sitting up. “You better come kiss it better.”

“I’m not falling for that again,” Gabe tells him. Tyson laughs.

 

—

 

They take Zoey out after they’ve showered and dressed, both bundled up into three or four layers because it’s fucking cold, and they put her on the long leash, letting her bound ahead of them joyfully, sniffing at trees and chasing squirrels.

“I could see us living someplace like this,” Gabe says out of nowhere, voice loud in the quiet. “After we both retire, you know, we get a place somewhere out of the way where it’s just us and we can let a dog run.”

Tyson glances over at him, but Gabe just looks calm, face contemplative under his stupid furry hat that Tyson told him makes him look like a mountain man. Gabe had said he guesses Tyson likes mountain men, then, and had picked him up and dragged him up to bed, so Tyson hadn’t really been able to argue the point. “You think about stuff like that?”

Gabe looks away from Zoey, who’s maybe ten feet away staring at a squirrel, to make eye contact with Tyson. “Yeah, of course. Don’t you?” And the thing is, Tyson has known for awhile that they’ll go the distance, him and Gabe — he wouldn’t have a ring box stashed carefully inside one of his shoes back at the cabin if he didn’t — but hearing it like this, so casually, like Gabe had said they should go see the new Transformers movie next Wednesday or they need to buy laundry detergent… well. It’s different. Tyson feels a little breathless.

“No, I do,” he says finally, because Gabe is starting to look worried, and squeezes Gabe’s hand. “Yeah. We’ll definitely need a hot tub.”

Gabe stops, pulls Tyson in by the hand and kisses him. Their cold noses bump together and Zoey loops back to see what the fuck is taking them so long because she has bushes to pee on and more woodland creatures to terrorize, and it’s perfect. 

They don’t stay out too long, mostly because it’s cold but also because they haven’t eaten and Tyson’s stomach really starts to protest, which means he starts to protest and Gabe gives him that look that means he’s being annoying and so they turn back. They feed Zoey first, out on the deck, and then Tyson scrambles eggs and Gabe makes cinnamon toast and coffee, and they sit looking out at the mountains to eat, which is also perfect.

“I could ski,” Gabe says, when the food is gone and the dishes are heaped into the sink. “You want to go up with me? Just for the afternoon, just a few runs.” 

“Or you could ski and I could stay here and not do strenuous physical activity on my vacation,” Tyson suggests. “Drink a little coffee, put a little Kahlua in it…”

Gabe rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling and he doesn’t look surprised. “You really don’t mind if I go?”

Tyson waves a hand. “Of course not. You go, you have fun. I figured this would happen, I brought a book.”

“Is it Harry Potter?” Gabe wants to know, which it maybe is but that’s fully not the point; he’s not going to actually read it anyway. It’s just a ruse. “Tyson, there are so many other books!”

“‘Oh, look at me, I’m Gabe, I read different books,’” Tyson says, which doesn’t even make sense and he’s pretty sure says more about him than Gabe anyway, but he likes the look on Gabe’s face: fond, exasperated, and very soft. “Mind your own beeswax, Gabriel. I’ll read what I want.”

Gabe kisses his forehead. “Okay,” he agrees, and goes to put on his ski clothes. When he’s ready, Tyson kisses him goodbye at the front door of the cabin; Gabe promises to be back by 6, and Tyson stands there in his socked feet with Zoey, shivering a little, and waves as Gabe backs the Range Rover out of the driveway and heads toward the ski resorts.

“C’mon, Zo,” he says, closing the door once the car is out of sight. “We’ve got some magic to make.” Zoey snuffles at his leg, follows him back into the kitchen, and immediately jumps up into the squashy armchair to take a nap.

“That’s fine,” Tyson says to no one. “Really, no, I don’t need help.” 

Zoey’s tail twitches in her sleep. 

By the time Tyson hears the car pull into the driveway at 5:53, the little cabin is clean, lit up by strings of Christmas lights and candles everywhere. There are two places set at the small table, dinner in the oven, red wine already uncorked. Tyson takes a deep breath, tosses the dishcloth on the kitchen counter and scrubs his hand over the back of his head and waits for Gabe to come in.

Gabe brings a gust of wind and swirling snow in with him when he does, stomping his feet on the mat to clean his boots, and smiles at Tyson, bright like the rising sun before he notices the changes to the place. 

“What’s — did you do all this?”

“It was Zoey,” Tyson says, and Gabe’s smile gets bigger. “I just helped.”

“She did a great job,” Gabe says, stepping in close to Tyson and leaning down to kiss him, big hands on Tyson’s biceps. “It looks great, Tys.”

“Happy anniversary,” Tyson says. “Um — here, sit down, it’s almost ready. There’s salad, we can start with that.”

“Mm,” Gabe says, kissing his forehead again and then letting go of him to sit down. “Okay. What did you make me?” 

“It’s — I made tomato sauce, it’s ravioli with sauce and cheese. I didn’t make the ravioli. I just put it in the pan with the sauce and the cheese, and. Yeah.” God, he’s babbling. He hasn’t babbled like this around Gabe in a long time, but Gabe is looking at him with soft eyes and a little smile tugging the corners of his lips up and Tyson loves him. 

“Sounds good,” Gabe tells him. “And, hey, it smells amazing.” He takes a deep breath. “You made the tomato sauce?”

“Yeah.” Tyson puts some salad on each plate, considers it and takes a little bit off of one. That can be his. “It was pretty easy, just some butter and onions and crushed tomatoes and white wine. Thyme, I think, to season? I just used what they have here.”

“First the lube, now the spices,” Gabe says, picking up his wine glass as Tyson finishes pouring. “We’re stealing things right and left.”

“Hey, the stuff in the kitchen is here for us to use,” Tyson says. “You’re still the only one who stole anything.”

Gabe just smiles at him. “Hey. Thank you.” He clinks his glass with Tyson’s. “To you.”

“To _you_ ,” Tyson counters, feeling his cheeks heat up. 

They linger over dinner, taking their time with the food and the wine and each other, and when they’ve finally cleared the plates, Tyson grabs the wool blanket he found in the bedroom closet and the thermos of hot chocolate he got ready before he started making dinner, and nudges Gabe. 

“Hey. Get your coat, let’s go sit on the deck.”

Gabe raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything, just gets his coat and follows Tyson outside and sits close on the bench so Tyson can spread the blanket over them both. He puts his arm around Tyson’s shoulders and takes the cup Tyson fills with cocoa and offers to him, and then looks up at the sky. 

“It’s clear out tonight.”

“Mm,” Tyson says, snuggling into Gabe’s side and then slipping his hand into his coat pocket, checking to make sure the small square box is still there. It is. He swallows; his heart is pounding out of his chest. “Hey. I have your anniversary gift.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything!” Gabe says, sounding genuinely surprised, like they aren’t millionaires who love buying each other things. Tyson resists the urge to roll his eyes; he’s pretty sure even for them this isn’t the moment.

Instead, he sits up straight and clears his throat. “Um. I love you so much, and the last two years have just been… jeez. The greatest. So I…” He takes another deep breath and takes the ring box out of his pocket. “I just wanted to see if maybe you want to give me the gift of celebrating our anniversary with me for, I don’t know, a lot longer.” He opens the box and holds it out. “However many we’re lucky enough to get. I want all of them.”

Gabe blinks at the wedding band in the box, and then he looks up at Tyson, and before Tyson even knows what’s happening both the hot chocolate and the blanket fall on the deck as Gabe grabs him by the front of his coat and kisses him. It takes Tyson’s brain a few seconds to catch up, but when he does he smiles against Gabe’s mouth, kisses back.

“Did you just propose to me?” Gabe asks finally, dragging himself away and pressing his lips to Tyson’s temple. “How did you — ”

“Surprise,” Tyson says, leaning up to press another kiss to the corner of Gabe’s mouth. “Yeah, I just fucking proposed to you, Gabriel Landeskog.”

Gabe’s laugh is clear in the cold night air, and he wraps both arms around Tyson and drags him in to kiss him again. When they finally break apart a second time, Gabe cups Tyson’s face in his hands and says, “It’s a yes. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Tyson echoes, grinning so hard it feels like his damn face is going to break in half. “Great. Here — ” and he reaches for Gabe’s left hand but then he has to let go of it to take the ring out of the box, and Gabe laughs and tries to help but just gets in the way and it’s a whole thing. Tyson finally manages to get the ring on Gabe’s finger, and he leans up and kisses Gabe again with both arms wrapped around Gabe’s neck. 

“I don’t have one for you,” Gabe says out of nowhere, pulling back from Tyson so suddenly that Tyson feels a little winded, like his head is spinning. That might be the kissing, though. 

“That’s okay,” he tells Gabe, who looks genuinely concerned that he didn’t anticipate a surprise proposal and come prepared with a ring for Tyson. “We’ll get one later. Right now I just — can you kiss me again, please?”

“Yeah, but we’re going inside,” Gabe tells him, hands still on his face, kissing him in between getting the words out. 

“You spilled hot chocolate all over the deck,” Tyson reminds him, but he squirms out of Gabe’s grasp to pick up the blanket and the Thermos and ducks back inside ahead of him. 

“Whatever, I’ll clean it up tomorrow,” Gabe says, almost snatching the things out of Tyson’s hands and tossing them on the kitchen counter. “I don’t care, it’s fine, I’ll pay to get it professionally cleaned if that’s what it takes, I just need you to get your pants off.”

“That’s romantic,” Tyson tells him as Gabe manhandles him into the bedroom. He takes a second to admire the way the ring looks on Gabe’s finger. “I propose to you, on our anniversary slash Christmas Eve, and you tell me to get my pants off.”

Gabe, who’s already mostly naked, laughs at him. “Tyson, when have you ever complained about not being romanced enough before? Has it ever happened, even once?”

Tyson considers this as he pulls his shirt off. It’s a fair point, but — “I’m allowed to want a little romance, Gabriel.”

“Fine,” Gabe says. “Get ready for the most fucking romantic sex of your life, then.” He marches out of the bedroom and comes back with two of the candles from the kitchen, which he puts on the dresser, and goes back for two more before turning off the light. The bedroom is plunged into darkness, lit now only by the soft candlelight and the moon outside, reflecting off the snow. It’s pretty damn romantic. 

“How’s that?” Gabe asks, suddenly very close, looming over Tyson and hooking his thumbs into the waistband of Tyson’s boxer briefs and tugging them down. 

“Um, it’s okay,” Tyson says. “It’ll do.” He’s going for casual, but his voice catches in his throat and gives him away. Gabe doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arms around Tyson and leans down and kisses him, tugging him over to the bed. He pushes Tyson down into the blankets and leans back to look at him, touching his face gently. 

“Hi,” Tyson says, when it’s been a minute and Gabe is still just _looking_ at him. “What’re you — ”

Gabe hums and kisses him again, deep and open-mouthed and starting to take on a more frantic edge, and then fumbles around and pushes the little bottle of lube they’ve been using into Tyson’s hands. Tyson’s breath hitches. “I’m gonna ride you, so you have to — ” and then he cuts himself off and starts laying kisses along Tyson’s collarbone, just a hint of teeth that becomes more pronounced when Tyson coats his fingers in the lube and reaches down to touch him. “Fuck,” Gabe says, and then groans into Tyson’s neck as Tyson presses a finger into him.

Tyson loves seeing Gabe like this: spread out on top of him, fingers wrapped around Tyson’s left arm and pressing him to the bed even as Gabe squirms and gasps against Tyson’s neck as Tyson works one, then two fingers inside him. He loves how desperate Gabe gets, how much he wants it and how easy it is to take him apart. 

“Feel good,” Tyson tells him, voice rough, brushing his fingers over Gabe’s prostate and feeling his dick twitch against Tyson’s hip. “You — fuck, Gabe, you’re just — ”

Gabe tightens his grip on Tyson’s bicep, pinning him firmly to the mattress, and groans against Tyson’s neck. He shifts his hips and their dicks slide together, already slick with pre-come, and Tyson has to close his eyes and take a deep breath to keep it from all being over before they even really get started. 

“Okay,” Gabe says abruptly a few minutes later, pulling his mouth away from Tyson’s. His lips look as puffy and chapped from kissing as Tyson’s feel. “Get your fingers out of me, c’mon, I want your dick now, I — where’s the lube?”

Tyson comes up with it and hands it to him, groans as Gabe uses one big hand to coat his dick with lube and then bites down on his lip, hard, as Gabe lifts himself up and sinks down on Tyson’s dick in one smooth movement. “Fuck,” Tyson says, eloquently.

“Tyson,” Gabe says, and when Tyson blinks his eyes open to look at him, Gabe is sort of half-smiling helplessly at him, his eyes soft. “Look at me, okay?”

“Gross,” Tyson says, but he does, biting at his lip and letting himself shamelessly track the rise and fall of Gabe’s shoulders, the way the muscles in his arms move as Gabe starts to fuck himself on Tyson’s dick in short, quick movements.

“You wanted romance, you got it,” Gabe says, his voice breaking a little as Tyson moves his hips but his gaze not wavering, eyes still locked on Tyson’s. “I fucking love you so much.”

Tyson laughs helplessly, just a little. “Fucking love you too, fuck, I’m — ”

“Don’t,” Gabe warns him, pausing. “Tys, please,” and Tyson takes another deep breath and clenches his teeth and somehow doesn’t come. It’s torture. Gabe is panting, tight and hot around him, and for few seconds Tyson really does think, _well, what a way to die_ , and then Gabe starts to move again, and he’s jerking himself off now too, and Tyson comes so hard he just sees white spots behind his eyelids for a solid thirty seconds. 

“Gabe,” he says weakly once he gets his voice back, reaching out and sliding his hands over Gabe’s thighs, and Gabe groans and curses and comes on Tyson’s chest. “Fuck,” Tyson adds.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Gabe echoes, wincing a little as he moves off of Tyson and collapses next to him, face pressed against the side of Tyson’s ribcage. He sounds wrecked. “Clean you up in a minute, okay?”

“Mm,” Tyson agrees, kicking a little at the covers until he can reach them, pull them up to at least their hips. He’s far from cold, but it’s not overly warm in the cabin, either, and he doesn’t want to wait until he is cold to think about blankets. He feels Gabe take a very deep breath and exhale slowly, and Tyson reaches over and runs a hand down Gabe’s arm. “Hey. Love you.”

Gabe smiles against his skin. “Love you.” He pushes himself up, then, eyes bright, and leans in to kiss Tyson, a gentle press of lips before he swings his legs over the side of the bed and stumbles into the bathroom. Tyson can hear the sink running. He lets his eyes drift closed. _Good plan, buddy_ , he congratulates himself.


End file.
